


candy cigarettes

by heather_in_hell



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/M, Mention of sex, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8854375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heather_in_hell/pseuds/heather_in_hell
Summary: She leans in the tiniest bit and closes her lips around the end of the cigarette with JD still holding it. Veronica wants to laugh. Beholder; provider of the chemical supply from which Veronica consumes.JD and Veronica have an early morning smoke break.





	

JD takes a drag from his cigarettes and blows the smoke out through the corner of his mouth. The sky is a stirring blue-grey in the early hours of the morning and he’s wide awake sitting on the cracked concrete front steps of his new Sherwood house. He’d never been a heavy sleeper.

It’s slightly cold out, but not enough to make him care. Sherwood isn’t the fanciest place he’s resided in, but it was sort of nice to sit by himself and let his mind go blank in the town’s quiet insignificance.

The front door opens behind him and he looks over his shoulder. Veronica’s grogginess is endearing to him, her bedhead and sleepy eyes reminding him that he gets to see her like this, all in her unkempt and un-Heather-ified glory. She’s dressed in the clothes she wore the day before, the ones JD had ever so hastily removed from her body last night. She didn’t bother putting her tights back on under her skirt and she’s thrown on one of JD’s flannels over her untucked shirt. It doesn’t match at all with the rest of her, and JD grins lightly at the sight.

“Nice sex hair,” JD says.

She scoffs as she sits down on the step next to him. “You’re a great stylist.”

She rubs her hands up and down her arms a few times from the chill. JD shrugs his left arm out of his coat sleeve. “Here,” he says, and opens the coat up to her. Veronica smiles somewhat shyly and moves into the space, pressing right up against his side. The butterflies he gives her haven’t died down despite the fervid sex and the fresh murder they committed.

“This thing is bigger than it looks,” Veronica says, surprised at how much of herself she can fit in half of the trademark trench coat.

JD holds the cigarette to Veronica, unsure of if she actually smokes. He hasn’t seen her do it before, but then again, he hasn’t known her long either.

“You smoke a lot?” he asks when she takes it from his fingers and inhales.

“No,” she replies, blowing the smoke out. “I can live with or without it. I’d call myself a social smoker, but I don’t have anyone to be social with lately.”

“Not even the Heathers?” JD teases.

She shakes her head and takes another drag, her eyes going wide in exaggeration. “Especially not the Heathers.” She pauses for a moment and then adds, “but I ate those candy ones as a kid. You know, the shitty chalky ones that sold children the idea of a slow death young. Maybe that’s why I’m desensitized to them now.”

JD gives a short laugh. She passes the cigarette back to and stares with him out at the empty, dead lawn in front of them.

“Is it bad that I slept well last night?” she says after some time.

It’s been two days since they killed Heather – since the drano killed Heather, as Veronica is trying to making herself think – two day since she smashed through the glass coffee table, two day since her suicide note was found and the entire school had a phony makeshift therapy session led by Ms. Flemming to “express emotions” and “grieve” Heathers death. Two days since her death caused a Fake Deep orgy, and Veronica slept fine. No overwhelming guilt so far, no sadness or nightmares or tears or dread.

And that is what _does_ makes her feel guilty.

JD shakes his head with the cigarette between his slightly chapped lips. “Nah. You deserve a good night’s sleep,” he says. “A reward for an artfully crafted suicide note.” He can see the faint goose bumps on her legs.

She looks down at her lap. “That’s a terrible thing to say,” she says, and means it.

He studies her unreadable expression angled to the bottom of the steps. She thinks it’s terrible, but he knows he’s right.

He holds out the cigarette close to the side of her face between his two fingers. Veronica thinks it looks like a peace offering, but she’s still unsure if he would even apologize for a joke like that. There was nothing to apologize for, not with his lack of remorse.

She leans in the tiniest bit and closes her lips around the end of the cigarette with JD still holding it. Veronica wants to laugh. Beholder; provider of the chemical supply from which Veronica consumes. She doesn’t break eye contact as she inhales the smoke slowly, so slowly that JD is sure she’s doing it on purpose. He swallows.

The stream of smoke drifts from Veronica’s pursed lips, her face turned just enough so it won’t get on either of them. Her eyes are closed and JD’s stomach swoops.

As soon as the last trace of smoke leaves her lips, he pulls the cigarette away from in between them and kisses her. Both of their mouths taste of tobacco and normally Veronica would be grossed out, but she somehow isn’t. Her lips are languid and groggy against his and her spine straightens when he presses into her with slight force. She places her hand on his side. She feels his ribcage through his shirt and hears and his breath hitch.

Veronica pulls away first, staring at JD’s closed eyes and almost tranquil expression. It looks nice on him, like a distinguished item of clothing someone got to wear only once a year for a special occasion.

He opens his eyes and looks at her intently, then smiles and brings the cigarette back up to his mouth. She likes that she can make him smile like this. She likes having him all to herself; a secret escape from her new and stressful life. Even if he helped her murder her supposed best friend. Perhaps he  _was_ a secret. Perhaps he was beyond a metaphor.

She sighs. “I don’t want to go back to school and fake cry for Heather Chandler. Can’t we stay right here forever?”

“If it were up to me,” JD says, “we’d be having parades in the streets instead of prayer circles. And it’d be all thanks to us.”

Veronica shakes her head but smiles at him nonetheless and leans her head on his shoulder, looking straight ahead and watching the cigarette smoke dissolve into thin air.


End file.
